For John's Sake Part 21

"Oh, Richard, Richard, you've made no mistake! This is your home, I am your wife, and these are your children."

"Jane," he exclaimed, "what's come to you all? who's coming, and what's this cleaning up for?"

"Richard, my dear, there's no one but you coming, and this cleaning up is all for you; and if you'll only make up your mind to stay at home always, you'll never find any worse place to come to; but a great deal better in time, I promise you faithfully," and Jane sank down in her chair, unable to stand any longer.

"Well, my girl, I will say as it's the pleasantest sight I've set eyes on for many a long day. Put the baby down, and let's look at you again.

I declare you look like the Jane I brought home years ago. I thought I'd lost her for good, I did; but here she is again," and he put his hands upon her shoulders and kissed her; the first kiss that his lips had left upon hers for years, and Jane melted into floods of tears.

"Oh, Richard," she said, laying her head upon his breast, "if you'll only forgive me and love me again, I'll make up for the past by being the best wife that ever a man had!"

"Nay, my dear, you've got no call to talk like that. I've been a wretched husband, and a bad father, and it's me as needs to ask forgiveness. Don't cry, la.s.s, now don't, it hurts me," and Jane restrained her tears as quickly as possible, and with womanly tact seated the baby on his knee, and sent the other children to crowd round him while she made the tea; so that when they took their places at the table the strangeness of the scene had well-nigh disappeared. The children partook freely of the good things which Mrs. Martyn's care had provided; but Richard and Jane found it hard work to touch anything, for the tide of recollections that swept across them and threatened at times to destroy their outward composure. After tea Jane anxiously watched her husband's movements, and in terror saw him rise from his seat.

"You're not going out, Richard?" she pleaded.

"Nay, la.s.s, don't be afraid," he said, kindly, "I'm only going to wash, and make myself fit for the clean place and the clean wife."

Overjoyed, Jane bustled about, and quickly put the children to bed; and when Richard entered the kitchen again, she was sitting with needle in hand and a pile of ragged garments by her side.

"This looks like old times, Jane," he said.

"It's my fault that there's ever been any change, Richard," she answered, humbly; "but if you'll only help me, we'll have our happy home back again."

"I don't know what to say, Jane, to always staying at home with you. You see, there's the club, and I'm almost bound to attend the meetings sometimes, and they're held in the 'Green Dragon,' and when once a fellow's there, he can't get away in a hurry."

"Oh, Richard, let the club go. It'll never do you any good, and unless you break away altogether, it'll be the ruin of you."

Richard looked thoughtful, but said nothing.

Just then there was a knock at the door, and he started up, saying:

"That's some of my mates. I'll send them off to-night, Jane, anyhow."

"Oh, that it may be the kind gentleman who has promised to come!"

thought Jane.

It proved to be Mr. Martyn, and Richard waited with the door in his hand, in doubt as to the stranger's errand.

"Are you Mr. Watson?" asked the gentleman. It was so long since Richard had heard himself addressed in such a manner, that at first it did not strike him that he was the man who bore that name.

"That's me, sir. Will you come in?"

Mr. Martyn walked into the kitchen, glanced round in pleased surprise, and took the chair that Jane proffered.

"Now, Mr. Watson, I have only heard of you this afternoon, but I believe you're just the man we want."

"Glad to help you in any way I can, sir," answered Richard, in much surprise.

"Well, we have taken a hall down the road, here, and we want to fill it with working-men whose evenings are free; make it a comfortable, homely place, you know, with books, and papers, and harmless amus.e.m.e.nts, and an occasional lecture or address, with, perhaps, a little speechifying among the men, as some of them know how to talk sensibly. We only commenced last week, but we are getting on nicely, and intend, on Sunday evenings, holding a lively service, with plenty of singing. Will you join us?" asked Mr. Martyn.

"I should like to, sir; but don't talk of me being the one to help you, for I want helping myself. Perhaps you don't know; but I've been going down, down, these six years and more, and I'm fairly sick when I think what a fool I've made of myself," said Richard, with drooping head.

"Come, my friend," answered Mr. Martyn, with his hand on Richard's shoulder: "that's the first step towards becoming a wiser man. The second is, to make up your mind that the past shall be retrieved as far as that is possible, and that for your wife and children's sake you'll turn over a new leaf."

"It's easy to talk, sir, excuse me; but you don't know what that means for a poor man like me," said Richard.

"I do know something about it," replied Mr. Martyn; "it means, every day, facing, like a man, the taunts and jeers of your fellow-workmen. It means fighting with all the power you have left, and all the power that G.o.d can give you, against the terrible cravings of the appet.i.te for strong drink which you have created for yourself. It means giving up any pleasure which you have found in the excitement of the tap-room, and the company of your so-called friends. But let me tell you what else it means. It means holding up your head, like a being created in G.o.d's image, as you go through life. It means retaining the love of your wife and children, and once more rejoicing in home comforts and fireside joys; and, above all, it means putting away from you the greatest and most effectual hindrance to your walking in the narrow way, which leads to the heavenly home and eternal life, in the presence of G.o.d."

Richard was much stirred by Mr. Martyn's words. He buried his head in his hands, and when he looked up again, there were traces of deep emotion on his face.

"Sir," he said, "I thank you from my heart; it's all true, and a deal more than you've said, but I never heard it put so plain before. I've a mind to come round to your place to-night; leastways, if my poor wife'll spare me," added Richard, with unaccustomed consideration.

"I shall be delighted, Richard, if you'll go; and thank you, a thousand times, for your kindness, sir," said Jane, her face beaming.

"You can come, too, if you like, Mrs. Watson," said Mr. Martyn.

"Me, sir! Do you mean it?"

"Why of course. You don't think we give invitations to married men without including their wives?"

"That's a new idea," said Richard, "but I don't know but what it's a good one. We shouldn't get into half so much trouble as we do if our wives went about with us more. I'm glad to have you, Jane; it's a long spell since you and me went anywhere together."

Satisfied with the success of his errand, Mr. Martyn led the way, chatting to his companions, until they entered the hall. There were many working-men already there, some lounging in chairs, or on forms, with their papers or books; others deeply interested in the game of chess, or draughts. A few were smoking, with gla.s.ses of refres.h.i.+ng, but certainly not intoxicating, beverage before them. Richard was wonderstruck at the novel scene, and its air of thorough homeliness.

"This'll be the place for me, Jane," he whispered.

An address had been announced for that evening, and Mr. Martyn was expected to speak. After leading Richard and his wife to seats, he mounted the platform at the end of the room, and in a friendly, familiar style, commenced to talk with the company. Most of them laid aside their occupations, well pleased to listen to one who was known to be the friend of working-men, and ever ready to help them in the difficulties and temptations of their daily life. Like dew on thirsty ground fell his wise suggestions, his timely warnings, his earnest counsels, upon the ears and hearts of the new-comers.

Responding to the invitation with which he closed, they, with two or three others, stepped forward and asked to sign the pledge, tremblingly venturing to hope that even for them the future might hold a new life.

We may take the liberty of raising the curtain which conceals it from their view, and a.s.suring our readers that their hopes were realised, for the old brightness and love found its way back into the home in which sin and misery had reigned for years. Trusting no longer in their own strength to keep the good resolutions with which they commenced the new life, they found that He, whom they had slighted and forgotten, was not only ready to forgive their past sin and folly, but was mighty to save and keep them to the end of life's journey.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

FOOTNOTE:

[B] Reprinted by permission from "The Opposite House," published by T.

Woolmer, 2 Castle Street, E.C.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

DOWNWARD STEPS.